Archive for the History Category

i am not alone…

Posted in History, Poetry, Sports, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , on September 29, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

about last night

found the usual post-mortem
in black ink but it doesn’t
matter (in detail.) pouring some
music & another cranberry juice/gin
cocktail & i’m laughing
cause that’s what you do when
the last feather is pulled out
& you find out you can still
fly.

enticement to momentary adulation…

Posted in bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Funny Morning Stories, History, Laughter, Philosophy, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , on September 9, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

omphaloskepsis

it got easier when i realized
not every problem requires a
solution; substitute ephemera
watchin’ a cherry smoldering
in a soon to be stolen ashtray
straightens out my evening hours
faster than pacing back forth.

holding my breath in a pocket
without a reason while my faithful
incendiary waits on my hand
to descend & bring the smoke
right up to the pearly gates.

neither of us has the countersign
& the wrong one knows our
schedule. sitting one-to-a-booth
with enough time to notice a
high-watermark stain reaching
for the top of a leased coffee cup,
i wonder if any of us are
washed frequently enough to
get any kind of close to clean.

no solution to the moment.
trying to share some sense
of a saving grace during
consultations with all
involved; it’s easier to
pawn off neverending nights
knowing there’s always
another hiding behind
tomorrow.

too much going on to worry
about the coffee tasting
like cigarettes. waiting
on an explanation is out of the
question; even a complaint
would take too long. looking
around the booth, around a
mostly empty restaurant, at
a mostly empty pack of
cigarettes wondering what to
do when the last one burns out.

———————

Got a cigarette?

war as necessity…

Posted in History, Learning About Life, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , on August 21, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

war as needed

somebody is always asking
what kind of man Napoleon
might have been had he captured
his Corsican homeland instead
of burning the armies of monarchs
for fun & profit. maybe the
arsenic coulda been saved;
of course Bernadotte clan might
have something to say about that.

the rabble never tire of this passion-
play regardless of what Pitt might
have tried. historical role call
continues same as ever. Iraqi pr soothes
whatever an empty suit can’t
convince by blowing smoke. there’s
no shortage of bodies or donated limbs;
more that never changes in usefulness
to men with stars over shoulder
& dreams of fortunate valor
covering whatever limited
intelligence was there to begin with.

dead bodies can’t comment;
living ones can’t wait to replace
the fallen. as is, as was.
where else would a jobless fellow
find a paycheck & a chance
for future advancement?

—————————————

History as the past. Fun time to be 4F, especially considering what’s coming next.

we ain’t the good guys…

Posted in Fear, Friendship, History, Insomnia, Learning About Life, Never Been, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travelogue with tags , , , , , , on July 13, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

rumor, perception & reaction

must be something ’bout
the kind of folk collecting as
whispers tolls under bridges
& the plans of outlaws running from
trumped-up charges accruing at
a daily rate. the music is okay,
even with their judgment for shite;
all the guts to follow the
story spilling out on floorboards
shot with holes that usually let
light-beams from stars through
since the ceiling fell in.

not much time to wonder when
bullets are flying over
telephone lines until i
strap on kevlar just so i can
let it ring. might-have-been
tourniquet solutions superate
between feasibility studies passed
along to unseen eyes. so rarely
a study in beauty,
the questions never asked,
another fuckin’ street-side
proposition.

safe path is to agree that bore-hole
flooring below the flaming telephone
lines & a joke gone wrong are no
place to hide. the sensorialists
will have a field day with the real-
life research; the possibilities are
endless.

————————————–

For those situations that spiral rapidly out of control due to over-reaction. As always, there is a reason it’s called a ‘passion play.’ Quo vadis?

souvenir…

Posted in BSC, bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Ha Ha Funny, History, Learning About Life, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , , , on May 31, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

souvenir

my baseball bat does most of
the work when it comes to
disposing any leftover souvenirs
from sometime prior-to. course
i’ve got enough kerosene to do
the job, but it’s cathartic to smash
before you burn, if we’re gonna
be sensible about all this,,,

pictures burn best & picture frames
smash easier than pieces of
paper exposing the asshole i mighta
been back in my asshole days.
right now a snake slithers across
pondscum water baking in sunlight
(code red kinda day i’m told.)

me & a cigarette both burn in the sun;
too fucking muggy to think about
past lives. i stabbed my
still-burning cigarette out in a
clamshell ashtray i found
on some forgotten beach
trip. don’t remember
when or where.

———————————————————-

little syd’s v & o is still on sale!.!.!.

Posted in Cigarette, Friendship, Ha Ha Funny, History, Poetry, travelogue with tags , , , on May 13, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

party for one

it’s fair because i ain’t
gonna know what happened
when i wake up tomorrow morn.
playing stakes high tits-up
eyes closed always goes
about the same; drink until
lil’ syd gets me warm & pass
the shaver. there’s work
to be done & a lot to get
through. i can take this
one down myself.

i don’t have to play pretend.
all my flags are whipping
in high winds as day rotates
into night, as always. first
lick of the inner warmth of
orange malt keeps me coming
back for more,
just like it used to be. even
the cigars taste like wine. coming
& going’s of the rest of the
world keep fooling the fool;
of course it’s a shock when
truth comes clean.
i’ll get over it.

half drunk for the first time since
last time is only coming home
again if you live in a shit-pile.
i just drive mine under the speed
-limit in the left lane. do whatever
you think you can. i’ve got
physics on my side & going through
me will never work.

music too loud & i’m too drunk
to care. whatever else i was
chasing with orange drank is
forgotten in the clouds of
lemon-smoke descending across
the apartment. last i heard,
everything will be all right
tomorrow: that’s less than a half
hour away. i feel i can make
it then die laughing at myself
trying to live up to a
self-administered nickname.

————————————-

I was so excited to see that big orange bottle staring me down that I barely noticed the price had quadrupled since HS. Amazing what 15 years will do. A toast to the man of the hour; he will ALWAYS be a better man than I, & I look up to him now more than ever. That he can’t be here to reminisce doesn’t mean any of those days are forgotten. Between the good man and the wise man, it really doesn’t leave nearly the mystery you’d think my existence would represent.

fawktard… (part 2)

Posted in Fawktard, Fear, Ha Ha Funny, History, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Series with tags , , , , , , on March 11, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

what can you do?

i went to monticello,
hearing somebody
say i should speak to
jeff. he’s long dead,
or maybe i was just late to
the party. took the tour
anyway so i could stare
at his dumbwaiter &
think back to the time
we weren’t quite as
fucked as we are now.

i wonder how much
longer until one of those
Historic Moments In
Human History comes
along & sweeps
everything away.

denninger has
the math down to a
science; with jeff dead,
bruce stealing mr. joad &
a lack of jacksons
(wait a while, my guess is
there’ll be plenty.)
who knows what comes
after the bankster
holdup?

no worries though;
we’re all fine.
just repeat after me.
heavy sour is the same
as light sweet,
politicians care about
the citizenry,
Jefferson County Alabama
loves JP Morgan,
& all’s going according
to plan & under
control.

let’s stare into a mirror,
think back to a time
we weren’t quite so…

fucked.

———————–

Dedicated to Phil Ochs. Was it ‘Ringing of the Revolution’ or ‘Rehearsals for Retirement’? All I know is ‘I Ain’t Marchin’ Anymore.’ When the wave hits here, what then? Obvious answers are always the bloodiest.